


Not Real

by coal15



Category: Arrested Development
Genre: But also adorable, M/M, and they're really bad at it, dummies in love, the NARRATOR is so over it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-11-26 00:56:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18173729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coal15/pseuds/coal15
Summary: Gob and Tony are in love, but also, as the narrator points out, idiots.





	1. Not Real

Just hand stuff. That was the plan. Casual, noncommittal. Perfect for two guys who just really liked each other. But as it turned out, sticking with 'just hand stuff' was a big ask for two guys who really  _really like_  each other.

The plan was to meet up at the Bluth home and socialize for a bit, then head to the hotel Gob had booked for them.

For hand stuff.

Under assumed names, of course. The last thing either of them needed was for the press to find out about their casual . . .  _thing,_ and jump to the wrong conclusion. Like thinking it was some kind of torrid  _affair._

NARRATOR: It was a torrid affair.

Gob chuckled at the mere thought as he poured two tumblers of scotch. A more than generous pour. Then he paced back and forth, fidgety and nervous, waiting for Tony to arrive.

At ten passed noon he started to panic.

"We agreed on noon, didn't we? Did I get the time wrong? The day?"

NARRATOR: Gob promptly raced upstairs to check the several reminder post-its in his room.

There was the post-it on the upper left corner of his bedroom mirror:  _Tony, noon, 2/15._

The post it on his nightstand:  _CASUAL date with Tony, noon, 2/15._

The post-it on his bathroom mirror:  _Not even a date, Tony, noon, 2/15._

One on the inside of his closet door:  _Tony, noon, 2/15. Dress nice so he feels special._

Gob went to the mirror for what he told himself was a  _final_ inspection, then changed his tie and blazer. This had happened four times since morning.

"Theeerrrreeee it is. That's the look. He'll like this look." Gob cleared his throat and said to his own reflection. "He will  _casually_ like this look. Yeah," he smoothed down his tie. "He might say, 'hey you look nice,' or . . . or something. Or he won't. You don't care." He stepped close to the mirror and pointed a finger at the Other Him. "You  _don't care!"_

NARRATOR: He cared.

Then came a knock at the door.

"Ohmygod, he's here!" Gob flew down the stairs in a very heterosexual manner, and flung open the door. "Tony!" He absolutely  _did not_ shriek.

"Hey!" Tony leapt across the threshold into a hug.

"God, when was the last time we saw each other?"

"When you came to my show at that outdoor auditorium by the beach. So, three days and nine hours," Tony replied.

"Really? Wow, feels like it's been forever!" Said Gob.

" _Right?!"_ Tony agreed as the two separated and put several steps of distance between them. "It does feel like forever, doesn't it? It's not just me!"

"It's not just you," Gob shook his head. ". . . Nope . . . no sir, not at all."

"Yeah," Tony nodded. "But it's probably just 'cause . . . y'know, we didn't get to have any, uh . . . alone time-I mean like,  _guy time."_

"Mmhm, mmhm," Gob agreed. "No guy time . . ."

A long silence settled around them as both men seemingly forgot how to stand still  _or_ actually walk anywhere. Nothing but awkward squirming for at least a minute.

"Oh!" Gob said at last, breaking the silence. "I uh, I poured us a few drinks."

"Great!"

"C'mon."

Tony followed Gob to the living room, and they sat down on the couch.

"Here. Gob picked up the tumblers of scotch off the coffee table and handed one to Tony.

"Thanks."

They each quickly downed at least half of the liquid, and set the glasses on their coasters.

"Mm," Tony said approvingly. "That is some good scotch."

"Oh, pfft," Gob waved off the compliment. "Haha. No, it's nothing fancy. Mid-shelf at best."

NARRATOR: It was sixty year old Lagavulin for which Gob had paid nearly three thousand dollars. But sure, mid-shelf.

Gob continued to laugh nervously. "W-we don't wanna get too fancy, right? . . . Y'know, 'cause then this, um, this thing," he pointed back and forth between them. "Might feel like . . . too formal. Like we're actually  _a couple_ or something." He took another large swig of scotch.

NARRATOR: To be clear, this is  _beyond_  top-shelf scotch he's gulping down like cheap beer.

"HAHAHA!" Tony laughed, a bit too loud. "Ha." He repeated at normal volume. "Wow, that would be . . .  _weird._ S-so what hotel did you book for us?"

"It's called The Mckinley Brickhouse. It's made of brick. It's a historical building. Like a hundred years old or something."

Tony's eyes lit up, and Gob's stomach flipped over several times.

"Sounds fancy."

"But not  _too fancy!"_ Gob specified with what he hoped was a teasing smile. "Just . . . mid-shelf. Like the scotch. It's uh . . . perfect for, um, our . . . thing . . ."

NARRATOR: Their thing was dating. They were dating.

"Right," Tony moved closer and let his voice drop several octaves. "Our thing."

"Just a couple'a guys doing hand stuff." Gob attempted a nonchalant shrug. "We could . . . we could even, maybe . . . start now?" It was only a half-question, as hands were already moving to interesting places. "Like sort of a warm up? Or . . . rehearsal?"

"Sure," Tony nodded. "Stage pros like us." He moved closer and closer to Gob as he spoke, until he was practically in the man's lap. "It would be weird . . . if we . . . didn't . . . rehearse." By that point they were fully engaged in what everyone's sex-ed teacher would describe as, 'heavy petting.'

"Mmhm."

Tony rallied just enough sense to remember where they were. "Wait, what if someone catches us?"

Gob shook his head. "Everyone's out for the day. Trust me, I made sure." With that he leaned in and brushed his mouth over Tony's throat, his stomach once again cartwheeling around when Tony allowed and even leaned into the contact.

"Well, if you made sure . . ." he breathed.

NARRATOR: It was at this point that things got ridiculous. Blazers off, ties off, shirts untucked, belts undone  _absurd._ I mean . . .

"We're not just gonna do hand stuff, are we?" Tony asked, barely audible, lips already ghosting against his friend's. His buddy's. His  _pal's._

NARRATOR: Just LOOK AT THEM!

Within five minutes of that moment they were in a state of partial undress and making out  _furiously._ And loud.

So loud they didn't notice Lucille coming home to grab a purse she'd left in the kitchen. Nor did they notice when she stopped to observe the show for a second before moving on with a (casual) shrug.

"Huh," she mused on her way back to the car. "I always thought George Michael would end up the family homo."

Meanwhile, Gob and Tony stopped just shy of rounding third base before composing themselves and heading for the McKinley. At which point third base was rounded many times over.

Gob sighed, breathing heavily as he settled beneath the covers, Tony tucked comfortably against him. "Is sex  _always_  supposed to feel that great? I mean, I thought I knew what great sex felt like, but I guess maybe not?"

Tony gave him a smile that could almost pass for shy."I was  _literally_  just wondering the same thing!"

"Yeah?"

Tony nodded.

Gob tried to make sense of the strange puzzle. He'd had  _enjoyable_ sex before, but the last few hours had proven, if nothing else, that he'd never had  _great_ sex. Not once. Ever. "I'm sure it's just our 'no strings' arrangement though, right? No expectations, no pressure." He shrugged. "Takes the weight off. So we can just have fun."

"Yeah," Tony agreed, his giant smile faltering somewhat. "I'm sure that's it. Must be. Yeah," he repeated. "You're right. Totally right."

NARRATOR: He's mispronouncing 'totally  _stupid.'_

"Still," Tony piped up after a few seconds of awkward silence. "It would be kinda nice if we didn't have to sneak around like this . . ." he let the inference dangle, trying to ignore the rising anxiety in his gut.

"I guess," said Gob. "But then we'd destroy each other's brand, and that can't happen. So, y'know, thank god we're just casually fooling around here, or the sneaking around would be even  _more_  upsetting for us . . ." his eyes wandered away from Tony's. "Super painful, actually."

NARRATOR: At this point, Tony should have pointed out the obvious, and stated his feelings in plain english like a normal person. But instead, he did this:

"I, I just have to hop in the bathroom a sec." Tony bolted for the bathroom and braced himself on the against the sink while staring desperately at his reflection. "This is  _not_ casual!" He hissed. "How do I make him admit it?"

NARRATOR: USE YOUR WORDS!

"Come on Wonder,  _think!"_ He continued to whisper. "You're as brilliant as you are handsome, you can figure this out!"

The question squirmed around in his mind for several weeks before the perfect plan occurred to him out of nowhere while he was backstage getting ready for a show.

"That's it!" He cried out, once again in front of a mirror. "I'll tell him we have to stop messing around because I'm getting  _married!_ Yes! Then he freaks out, realizes how he feels, and fights for me!"

NARRATOR: Gob would only do two of those three things. Because Gob is, as we all know, an idiot.

"Hey, I'm here see my friend Tony Wonder," Gob said to the security guard hovering backstage. "See? Guest pass." He held up his laminated guest pass as though it were a police badge.

"Dressing room three," said the guard. "You're the boyfriend, right?"

"Wh- _what?"_ Gob scoffed. "No! We're, I'm just, we-room three, you said? Okay." He took a deep breath and went looking for the right door.

"Who was that?" A nearby stagehand asked the security guard.

"The boyfriend."

The backstage was practically a labyrinth of hallways, so it took Gob a few minutes to find dressing room three.

"It's me, hope you're decent." he said softly, tapping on the door as he entered. Tony stood up from his cheap folding chair. "Not that I mind indecent," Gob added with a smile. "That'd be okay, too."

Tony tried to wipe the sweat off his palms as he muttered under his breath, "You can do this."

"What?" asked Gob.

"I have some news."

"Good news?" A knot began to form in Gob's stomach.

"I think it's good news. No, it's great news. Really, just, just  _great!_

"Well don't keep me in suspense!" Gob tried to sound light and carefree, but anxiety did have a noticeable effect on his tone.

"I'm getting married!" Tony tried not to let Gob's clenched no-really-I'm-fine face make him hesitate or abandon the plan "Yeah, yeah. Great, right?" He took a deep breath and got to the (fake) point. "But . . . so, we are gonna have to stop-"

"Oh of course!" Gob interrupted, the knot tightening into truly horrible pain. Like he'd been stabbed. "No, of course we can't keep doing . . . what we've been . . . um, doing. So what's her name?"

It was not the response Tony had anticipated. In  _his plan,_ Gob insisted that he not get married so  _they_ could be together instead.

"Uh, Sal-" Tony almost said Sally Sitwell, but then he remembered that, as Gob and Sally sometimes crossed paths, and beyond that knew a lot of the same people, he'd get caught in that lie fairly soon. "Saaaalllll-amander."

"Salamander?"

"Mmhm, her uh, her parents were hippies."

Gob frowned. "What's her last name?"

"Notreel." Tony spit out without thinking. But he remained determined to commit to his lie and sell it all the way. "The 'reel' is spelled r-e-e-l."

NARRATOR: Like that made it more believable. But again, Gob is-

"Salamander Notreel. What a lucky gal," he tried to chuckle . . .  _casually._ "I guess that's it for us then. So long 'no strings,' sayonara secret hookups!"

"Yeah," Tony nodded as his heart sank to the floor and kept on sinking. "Yeah. I sure won't miss all the sneaking around."

"Got the wife now!" Gob tried for a playful shove but missed the other man's shoulder by several inches. "Got the . . . got the ol' ball-and-chain. What a relief!" He decided to offer Tony a doorway out of guilt. "Big relief. Yeah. I've been thinking lately this thing with us has kinda . . . played itself out. So good timing on the engagement!"

At that point Tony's heart hit the earth's molten core and vaporized. "P-played out. Totally. You're totally right. As always."

NARRATOR: As never. Literally  _never._

"So um, I'll just . . . cancel our room at the McKinley, then."

"Mmhm," Tony nodded, chewing his upper lip.

"Fun while it lasted, right?" Gob didn't wait for an answer before leaving the small room as fast as possible, and fleeing the theatre like there was a raging fire chasing him down the street.

A little over an hour later he sat at on a stool at the kitchen counter, staring at his beer.

"Hey Gob," said Michael, startling him.

"Oh! Oh . . . hey. Didn't hear you come in."

"Is something wrong?" Michael asked gently as he approached his brother's side, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You look upset."

Gob opened his mouth intending to say something along the lines of 'no, I'm fine,' but he couldn't. "I've made a huge mistake, Michael!" He sobbed, hugging his brother fiercely without rising from the stool. The position had him perfectly arranged to rest his head on Michael's shoulder and cry. "I've made a huge mistake! A massive, giant,  _awful_ mistake!"

"Heeeeeeey, it'll be okay, Gob. Just tell me what it is, and we'll figure out how to fix it." He wasn't normally one to care much about his big brother's antics and nonsense, but he'd never once seen the guy this upset.

"I'm in love with someone and he-he's getting married!" Gob went on sobbing. "It's T-Tony. I love him, and he told me today he's getting married!"

"Oh." Said Michael. "Oh  _wow . . ."_

"I know, I know," Gob sniffed, wiping away tears and trying to get control of himself. "You must be shocked."

"No, it's not that. Mom told me weeks ago that she saw you two going at it on the couch, I just assumed she was extra drunk that day. Or lying. For some reason. So you're bisexual then?"

Gob shook his head. "I'm not."

Michael gave him a 'no, _seriously'_ look. "Buddy, you've been with women and now a man, that's textbook bi-"

"I'm just gay, alright?"

"Hm . . ." Michael took a moment to absorb the information. "Why wait so long to come out, then? No one in our family's homophobic,  _and_ it would have spared us the parade of all your insufferable or age inappropriate girlfriends."

Gob took a deep breath, finally done with the tears. "I didn't exactly know."

"How the hell does a guy reach your age and not know?"

"I, I don't . . . I mean, for one thing I've never had close male friends. Which, in hindsight, was probably to avoid . . . y'know,  _feelings."_

"Makes sense, I guess," Michael nodded.

"And all the women I've dated were probably . . . on some level . . . attractive  _because_ they were obviously wrong choices. The kind that'd never work out, regardless. And . . . the few times I did feel a little attachment I assumed, 'yeah, okay, this is what love feels like, and all the romcoms and stupid romance novels are just exaggerating about it.'"

"Hm. . . okay, so let's set that aside and get back to Tony. Is it Sally Sitwell? It she the fiancee?"

"No. No, it's some woman I've never met called Salamander Notreel."

"Not real?" Michael frowned.

Gob shook his head. "No, it's spelled r-e-e-l."

"Um . . . buddy . . . she's fake. Yeah, she is absolutely a made up person."

"You think so?" Gob sniffed, feeling the tiniest bit hopeful.

"Think about it Gob. Really,  _really think._ Just try."

Gob stared into the distance, fixated on nothing in particular as the name ran through his mind on a loop. Salamander Notreel . . . Salamander Notreel . . . "Oh my GOD!" He shouted finally, leaping up from his stool. "SHE'S NOT REAL!"

NARRATOR: And we finally get there!

"Yeah!" Michael cheered. "Which means you're still in the game!"

"B-but . . . he lied to me. Michael, why would he lie to me? To  _me?!"_

"Maybe to give you an easy out if you didn't love him back? Or he expected you to fight for him?"

"Wow . . ." Gob stood there, wide eyed, dizzy, and amazed. "Wow . . ."

"So?! Go fight for him, you  _spectacular_  bonehead!"

"Right! Thanks Michael!"

"Yeeeeeees," Michael drawled out the word. "Thanks to  _me."_

Gob turned around just before exiting the room, and spoke quickly, "and if you could call a family meeting while I'm gone and tell them I'm gay, I'd really appreciate it. Thanks again, you're the best!"

"But-" Michael tried to object, but it was useless. He knew Gob wouldn't hear a word of it anyhow, with his head so high in the clouds. "Great. I guess this is happening." He grumbled, taking his phone from his pocket to open a group text. "You can't just come out like a normal guy, nooooooooo. Gotta make it Michael's job . . ." the string of muttered complaints continued as he texted the words 'family meeting, ASAP.'

Gob knew Tony's magic show involved three other performers, thirty minute sets each, and there were two shows. One daytime, one evening. So odds were he'd still be backstage at the theatre.

"Or someplace nearby," Gob muttered, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. "I'll find him. I can find him. If nothing else, I'll wait 'til after the night show."

NARRATOR: Every once in a while perfect timing happens to those who really, really need it. This was one of those times.

Gob arrived at the theatre just as stagehands were getting everything reset for the evening performance.

"Hi boyfriend," the security guard greeted Gob with a nod as he rushed by.

"Hi Guard."

Gob barged into the dressing room three without announcing himself in the slightest. "Hey!" He yelled, pointing at Tony, who stood in the middle of the room with a satin robe over his costume. "Notreel's not real! You lied!"

Tony folded his arms with an indignant huff. After Gob left earlier, he'd gone from grief to anger really quickly. "She could be real! You don't know!"

"She's not!" . . . Still, a tiny wiggle of doubt began creeping into Gob's brain like a parasite. "But . . . on the off chance she is: don't get married!"

Tony's eyebrows raised halfway up his forehead. "And why not?"

"Because!" The confidence borne of adrenaline and certainty began to melt away, and Gob shifted from foot to foot as he spoke. "Because we, this, you and me, we are . . . we are . . ."

"I go on int twent-"

"We're in love!"

Tony sagged with relief and let out the breath he'd been holding since Gob entered the room. "So why didn't you just say that before?!"

NARRATOR: Because he needed his brother to explain the obvious and tell him what to do.

"I don't know."

NARRATOR: Seriously, it's all Michael.

"I just, I love you. That I know. Also I came out to my family, so I've got no reason to chicken out here," Gob shrugged.

Tony gazed at him with a love-struck smile. "Y'know, that door does lock."

Twenty minutes and one dressing room quickie later, Tony took the stage. "Welcome, everyone!" He announced with all his usual grandeur and flair. "Before we begin, I would like to dedicate this show to my former nemesis and current boyfriend, Gob Bluth. He's standing right over there, just off stage. Honey, d'you wanna poke your head out here and give the people a wave?"

Gob obliged, nearly drunk on hearing the man describe him as  _boyfriend,_ then returned to his place offstage, leaving the spotlight to Tony.

"That's right friends! We've been having a secret fling for months now, and no one knew about it!"

NARRATOR: For some reason that line made the audience bust out laughing. I can't imagine why.

Gob and Tony shared a quick, sheepish glance.

"Okay," Tony flung out his arms. "That's enough announcements! On with the show!"

NARRATOR: And they lived Stupidly Ever After.

THE END


	2. Iconic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Out. Proud. Still dumb as rocks.

Gob and Tony waited in line at a small neighborhood coffee shop and when they reached the front of the line, Gob placed orders for both of them. "Two vanilla lattes, please. And if you could put just a  _touch_ of cinnamon in mine, that would be lovely."

"Make mine a soy," Tony muttered to his boyfriend.

"Really?" Gob asked, a slight crease in his brow. "That's new."

Tony shrugged. "I'm giving up dairy."

"Ugh! _God,_  I hate your discipline!" Said Gob with a grandiose eyeroll. "Just kidding, I  _love_ your discipline!"

"Yeah?" Tony Grinned.

"So attractive!" Gob replied with a playful nudge.

NARRATOR: Upon coming out, the couple had chosen to embrace public affection in a Big Way.

They giggled happily, sharing a series of tiny kisses.

NARRATOR: It was honestly a little disgusting-not that I'm homophobic, they just  _really_ pushed the envelope.

"For here or to go?" asked the wearied teenager behind the counter.

"To go," both men chirped in unison.

"Man, I am  _never_ gonna get tired of that!" Tony gushed.

"Me same!"

NARRATOR: Gob's smile at that moment would've split a normal man's face in half. Not that gay men aren't normal! Because again:  _NOT_  homophobic. Just so we're clear.

The two went on nuzzling and basking in their glorious outness until the barista interrupted them.

"Can I have names, please?" he asked in monotone, sharpie and paper cup in hand.

"Gob and Tony," replied Tony.

"Yes,  _that_ Gob and Tony!" Gob followed up with a deep, burdened sigh as he took Tony's hand. "The gay illusionists who turned the world of magic on its head by coming out live on stage. I'm sure you've seen the the press coverage."

"So that's two vanilla lattes, one soy, one with cinnamon?"

Gob nodded. "Correct, sir." The pair stepped aside so the people next in line could place their orders. "Seriously though, the media sure has gone nuts over us! Right sweetheart?" He asked in a raised voice, his gaze wandering the sparsely populated room.

"They have," Tony agreed in a similar tone. "But trailblazers like us, we're gonna attract attention."

NARRATOR: Literally no one was paying attention. Though in all fairness, they had actually been the subject of several headlines recently. Such as:

_Tony Wonder Bores Audience With Rambling Story About Boyfriend_

_Gob Bluth And Tony Wonder, Flaming Cliches On Stage_

_What The Gay Community Never Asked For_

_When Gay Men Should Really Shut Up_

_Queer Community Begs: Will The Gay Magicians Please Tone It Down?_

And:

_Gay Couple Ejected From Theater For Making Out In Front Row._

"I still think that theater thing was aaaaaaaalllllllll about homophobia!" Gob whispered.

"It was!" Tony agreed quietly. "I mean, so you unzipped my pants a little, so what?!" He shrugged.

"But we  _do_  have stay visible, Tony," said Gob, shoulders squared and posture perfect. "No matter what. As queer men in the spotlight, it's about  _representation!"_

NARRATOR: Gob  _had_ actually done a shocking amount of reading in the last months on the subject of gay rights.

"So true," Tony nodded. "Sooooooo true.

NARRATOR: Tony, less so.

"I mean Stonewall was just the beginning, am I right?" Gob chuckled.

Again, Tony nodded. "Mmhm, mmhm. Yeah, that was . . . just the beginning." He hunched away from Gob, took out his phone, and googled  _Stonewall._

Meanwhile, their lattes arrived at the counter and Gob stepped forward to claim them.

"My point is we have to be here for our  _community."_ He handed Tony the cup marked with his name, then raised his voice once again, gesturing around the room as they both meandered toward the door. "And for the ones still struggling," he turned around and pushed the door open with his back. "Stay strong, brothers and sisters! We're here for you, and-"

"It gets better!" They declared in unison.

"I think this guy knows what we're talking about," Gob added, pointing to a twenty something man in front of a laptop wearing a backward baseball cap and a shirt reading  _Hooters._ "It Gets Better. Youtube. Check it out," he finished before finally stepping out the door.

"I think we did some good in there," said Tony before taking a sip of his beverage.

"Yeah." Gob sighed, breathing in the sweet spring air. "We did. Man, isn't it  _great_ being out? I feel like we're really doing our part as-"

"Public Figures," they finished, smiling at their usual, easy synchronicity.

NARRATOR: It was a sweet moment. Though by the time they reached the Bluth home, both were in a much less warm and fuzzy mood.

"Can you  _believe_ there's an entire heard of undercover reporters loitering around our favorite park?" Gob complained to Michael, who had just finished loading the dishwasher. "They even had  _binoculars!"_

NARRATOR: They were birdwatchers. One of them was twelve.

"Yeah," Tony scoffed, "It's, it's like, we get it guys, we  _are_  pretty much the 'It Couple' of the year-but  _some_ privacy would still be nice!"

"So rude," Gob added, shaking his head. "The price of being gay icons, I guess."

"Reeeeaaaally?" Michael responded with a dubious expression. "Do we think 'icon' is maybe be a bit much?"

"We can't control what we are, Michael!" Gob shot back.

"But you aren't even-fine.'Icon' it is."

NARRATOR: Michael let his brother have the win, figuring that since a near-total ignorance of reality had  _always_ been Gob's way of life, there was no reason to try changing it now. In fact, he decided to humor the man even further.

"I uh . . . I'm just glad you two haven't let world wide fame go to your head." He gave both Gob and Tony solid pats on the shoulder. "It is . . . truly inspiring."

"Thank you, Michael," Tony said with profound seriousness. "It's the little guys like you who keep us grounded."

Gob beamed at his boyfriend. "Isn't he the greatest?"

"No, you're the greatest!" Tony grinned.

"No  _you are!"_

"No  _YOU ARE!"_

"Okay!" Said Michael. "Well guys, I have a meeting to get to. Are we still on for that new pizza place later?"

"Oh," Gob nodded his head toward Tony. "He's off dairy."

"Pfft!" Tony scoffed. "What kind of monster doesn't make an exception for pizza?"

"Oh my GOD, you're the greatest!" Gob yelled, taking Tony's hands and swinging them giddily back and forth.

"No YOU ARE!"

"No  _YOU ARE!"_

Michael realized this exchange was sure to go on for several annoying minutes, so he sidestepped the gushing couple and headed for the door, completely unnoticed. "The more things change, the more they stay the exact  _fucking_ same," he muttered under his breath.

NARRATOR: Which is true, by the way. It's Arrested Development.

THE END


	3. Converting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gob and Michael have a serious conversation about serious things. Seriously, that happens. This may or may not be my last chapter. Thoughts?

Gob arranged his frankly daunting pile of files and binders on the coffee table in what he  _hoped_ was a logical order, and waited for his brother to arrive. To pass the time he decided to rearrange living room bookshelf by subject matter rather than alphabetical order.

He was halfway through the self-assigned task when the doorbell rang.

"What's with all that?" Michael asked, nodding toward the coffee table as he stepped through the door.

"We'll get to that in a minute, first thing's first," said Gob. "You um . . . you may wanna sit down for this."

Michael obliged, not sure what exactly to brace himself for.

NARRATOR: In that moment Michael's greatest fear was Gob and Tony adopting a kid. Given that their approach to life in general was basically absurd, he imagined a child parented by them would end up having almost no practical skills or knowledge at all.

"So . . ." Gob drew a deep breath. "I guess I'll just jump right in. I've decided to retire from showbizness."

NARRATOR: Michael wasn't quite sure he'd heard that correctly.

"What? Why? You've always  _loved_ being a magician!"

"Illusionist, Michael, how many times have we talked about-never mind, doesn't matter. Look, I've thought about this for months and . . . well, I spent probably half my life as a deeply closeted gay man, and now . . . making a career out of illusions just feels bit-"

NARRATOR: On the nose?

"It's uncomfortable."

"Why?" Michael frowned.

Gob cleared his throat and carefully considered how to explain. "Well, I've done a lot of self reflecting lately, which is something I don't do often-"

NARRATOR: Or ever. Seriously, not even for one micro-second.

Gob continued. "The thing is, now every time I go onstage it reminds me of what drew me to a career in performance art in the first place. I could spend all my time obsessed with presentation and tricks and gimmicks and . . . well, _illusions,_  frankly. Which made it . . . kinda . . . easy not to think about-"

"Your stuff?" Michael guessed.

"Exactly," Gob nodded. "I sort of . . . Keyeser Soze'd myself."

NARRATOR: Let's just skip over the unfortunate Kevin Spacey reference and stay focused on the point.

Gob shifted his weight from foot to foot. "I convinced myself I didn't exist, in a way? I guess is the best way to put it?"

NARRATOR: Michael was struck completely speechless.

"Wow!"

NARRATOR: Okay,  _nearly_ speechless. Sorry I jumped the gun on that.

"So you've really given this a lot of thought, huh? I'll be honest buddy, I didn't even know you  _could_ manage this level of thinking."

Gob put a hand on his hip and let out a pissy huff. "Normally that comment would offend me, and I would yell at you and storm out of the room," he said, "but we have bigger issues to discuss. Getting back to the point: going on stage any more just brings up a bunch of issues for me, and it bums me out. I might go back in a few years, after I've processed my. . . closet baggage. But for now? I'm done."

"Is Tony retiring too?"

"No," Gob shook his head. "He's uh . . . he's actually bi, and I guess was semi out-at least to  _himself-_ for a few years before we met."

Michael raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah?"

"Mmhm. I mean, not completely," Gob explained. "Y'know, only  _occasional_ stuff with men, never fullon sex, never anyone more than once, and only when he was drunk or sad about losing a girlfriend so he'd have the excuse of-" he shook his head, realizing they'd gotten off track. "It's more common than you'd think. Anyhow, point is, he didn't cling to performance art like a life raft the same way I did. And let's be honest, between the two of us? He's the better illusionist."

NARRATOR: It was true, but also an extremely low bar to clear.

"So much talent," Gob smiled fondly. "It would be a  _huge loss_ to the world of showbizness if he quit."

NARRATOR: It really, really wouldn't.

"Okaaaaaaay, Michael drawled, "still not sure where this is going. Or how it involves me. . . "

"Well, that brings us to all this stuff," Gob sat down next to his brother and placed hands atop the stacks of files and binders. "You're the brains of the family, and I'm gonna need your help."

"With?"

"You know that closet conversion place I bought a while back?"

"Yeeeeeaaaaah . . . ?" Michael once again drawled, somewhat worried.

"I'm converting it."

"To?"

"Okay, so this needs a little backstory."

NARRATOR:  _More_ backstory?! Yeesh, so much exposition! I'm just gonna say it, this feels like sloppy writing.

"When Tony and I started socializing in the community-the gay community-"

"Yeah, got that." Michael nodded.

"Right. So, I noticed I was meeting a lot of guys who were in hetero marriages, with kids, by the time they came out, and they just weren't finding much support for themselves or their families to deal with all the emotional fallout."

Michael did his best to focus on the actual words coming out of his brother's mouth, but hearing the man speak with such coherence and sanity was almost  _too_  jarring.

"So I want to establish a sort of . . . a specialized family therapy clinic. Y'know to help everyone with the transition, smooth out communication-and actually also to give the kids a safe place to express serious anger at the gay parent without being called a homophobe. It's an emotionally traumatic thing, and I wanna make sure every therapist I hire gets that."

Michael stared and stared and stared at his brother, blinking, mouth agape.

NARRATOR: Okay,  _now_ he's speechless. I'm sure this time.

"Mike?" Gob snapped his fingers in the other man's face. "You in there?"

"WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?!" Michael practically bellowed.

Gob fanned through the piles of paper with a large, warm grin. "A guy with a purpose, Mikey." He said as the grin grew even larger. "I'm a guy with a goddamn purpose!"

The other man leaned forward, rubbing his temples. "Okay, I'm gonna need a minute to absorb all this."

"Would a glass of wine help?" Asked Gob.

" _Christ_ yes! Please."

Gob gave his brother a pat on the knee and walked the short distance to the kitchen. "Anyhow, obviously I've got the vision, I know what I wanna do, but I need help with all the, the-" he waved at the coffee table like he was trying to shoo away the paperwork. "That crap."

NARRATOR: Whew! So he's still  _kind of_  an idiot! What a relief!

Michael started thumbing through the files while Gob poured two glasses of wine. "Tony got me this for my birthday. It's an '86 chateau de . . . something I can't pronounce."

Michael chuckled quietly, also relieved to know his brother was still  _a bit_ dumb. He could handle Gay Gob, but S _mart Gob?_ Now that would've been downright unsettling.

"The blue tabbed file is all family therapist resumes," Gob said, returning to the couch with two glasses of wine and two coasters.

Michael picked up the file and thumbed through its contents. "Did you get a list of recommendations from Tobias?" He asked. "So you know who  _not_ to consider?"

"Obviously," Gob nodded. "And aside from therapy I wanna have a few lawyers on staff to advise on custody issues, a support hotline-y'know for those who haven't  _quiiiiiite_ made the leap to coming out to their spouses, I imagine that's gotta be a difficult conversation to start. And I wanna maintain a list of other community resources, establish relationships with the people running them-"

"Damn," Michael breathed after a small sip of wine. "Wow. Buddy, I'm just . . . I am so  _damn_ proud of you!"

"Me too," said Gob, gently clinking his glass against Michael's. "Meeeeeee too."

NARRATOR: Me three! It's Continued Development.

THE END.


	4. Just Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An anniversary, an bracelet, and a magic show. Fluff ensues.

Gob stood in the kitchen, keeping a keen eye on the cast iron stovetop griddle as two discs of pancake batter began to form small bubbles.

"Just about there," he muttered to himself, then waited another thirty seconds or so. "Aaaaaaannnnnd  _flip!"_

"Are you kidding me?!" Tony remarked as he shuffled into the kitchen, still toweling off wet hair. "I wasn't in the shower  _that long,_  how did you have time to do all this?" He tipped the mixing bowl to see hardley a single pancake's worth of stuff remaining.

"It's an overnight batter," Gob explained. "Did you know that was even a thing? Anyhow, I made it last night while you were out walking Marcy's dog and hid it in the back of the fridge. Griddle's been on since the second you stepped in the bathroom. Oh, and don't bother checking on Marcy. She doesn't actually have the flu, I just looped her in on my stealthy get-you-out-of-the-apartment plan."

Tony wrapped his arms around Gob's neck with an adoring smile. "You're a genius."

NARRATOR: This was the least true thing any person had ever said.

"Aren't I though?" Gob affirmed, his warm expression mirroring Tony's.

NARRATOR: Well, the least true thing if you don't count all those dipshit flat-earther theories. Seriously, what's wrong with those people?

Tony let go of his boyfriend and took a step back. "Happy Just Hands Day!" he said triumphantly, holding up a hand to be met with a high five.

"Just Hands!" Gob echoed, delivering the expected gesture with enthusiasm.

NARRATOR: They both considered their ridiculous and obviously doomed 'just hands' date to be the  _official_ beginning their romance, and so thereafter referred to each anniversary as 'Just Hands Day.' It was a tiny, unique detail of their relationship, and this was their fourth.

The high five was followed by a lot of gooey nuzzling and snuggling, which was eventually derailed by the smell of . . .

"Oh no!" Gob gasped, breaking away from the sweet moment to flip his pancakes. "Okay," he breathed a deep sigh of relief as though he'd just saved someone from the very jaws of death. "They're not  _burned_ burned. Just a little dark."

Tony pointed his chin toward the impressive number cakes already sitting in neat stacks on a beat up old sheet tray beneath a glass cloche to keep them warm. "Either way, I think we're covered." He put his arms around Gob's waist with a quiet chuckle. "Do you have a plan for the leftovers? 'Cause no way can we eat all this now."

"Breakfast-for-dinner tomorrow night," Gob explained. "And if there's anything left after that I'll cube 'em up, dry 'em out in the oven with some brioche, and make a bread pudding."

NARRATOR: In the years since coming out Gob had become an avid student of  _exactly_ two subjects: Queer Issues and Culinary Arts. So, gay stuff or food? Yeah, he's got you covered. Literally  _anything_ else? Nope. Still dumb as a bag of air.

Tony gazed up at the taller man with pride. "I repeat: I landed a genius. Can't say it enough."

NARRATOR: Yes, romance was in the air for sure that morning, but it came to a screeching halt when Tony noticed Gob's satchel sitting on the end of the counter. His  _work satchel_ to be precise. Then the whole mood cooled off.

Tony let out a long groan. "Noooooo, Gob, tell me you're not going to-c'mon, man! It's Just Hands Day! It's  _our day!_ You can't go to work on-" he huffed and crossed his arms with more than a little petulance. "You promised me last year you wouldn't do this again!"

"I knoooooow," Gob said as he placed two finished pancakes under the cloche and scraped the last remnants of batter onto the griddle. "I know Tony, I did promise, and I'm sorry, but it's just . . the thing is, a queer advocacy group flew in all the way from Atlanta to check out the FTSC-"

NARRATOR: Family Transition Support Center. The name he and Michael had decided on several years back. Not only had it become a roaring success locally, and a model for centers statewide, they even found themselves traveling to out of state conferences several times a year in order tob to present, in detail, the operational model and goals of the FTSC. In short, work tended to eat up a lot of Gob's time.

Tony let out another, longer groan. Somehow with even  _more_  petulance than the first as his posture sagged, weighted down by disappointment. It was truly impressive how hard the man could rock a pout. "But seriously?" He whined. "Does it have to be on  _our_ day?"

Gob drew a deep breath and rested his forehead against Tony's. "I promise honey, I'm only there for the meet 'n greet. Okay? Super quick. I'll shake hands, give an intro, little tour, then Michael's gonna handle everything else for the rest of the week."

"What? The whole week?" The creases in Tony's forehead broadcast both suspicion and curiosity.

"Oh yeah," Gob nodded as he fetched two plates from the cupboard. "I cleared  _everything_ off my schedule."

The creases grew deeper. "Whyyyyyy is the whole week such a big deal?"

Gob did his best to hold back a smile, succeeding only somewhat. "You'll find out tonight."

"Are we going on a trip?" Tony guessed.

"You'll find out tonight," Gob repeated, his voice soaked in mischievous glee as his last pancake came off the griddle.

"Aruba? Hawaii?" Tony continued to toss out random guesses. "Or are we staying stateside? Like . . . Grand Canyon? Rocky Mountains?"

Gob gave his boyfriend a quick kiss as he handed over a plate of two pancakes with a few spoonfuls of sliced strawberries on top. "Fine," he sighed, "you broke me. I booked us a flight to the moon."

Tony gave him a look of deep warmth with just a tiny dose of annoyance mixed in. "Y'know you're a dick sometimes. You do know that, right?"

"I make no apologies," Gob quipped with an air of nonchalance as they sat down at the dining table. After breakfast he raced over to the FTSC as fast as possible without risking a ticket.

"You're here already?" Michael said with genuine surprise when his brother entered their small staff lounge. "You know the Atlanta guys won't be here for at least another twenty minutes." He stood from his chair and placed a hand on Gob's shoulder. "And I told you I'd handle all the prep work so you and Tony could have nice lazy morning, remem-"

"I didn't come in early for work stuff," Gob interrupted. "You're still  _totally_ handling everything but the meet 'n greet, I just need your opinion on this,"he withdrew a long slender box from his satchel and presented it to Michael. Inside the box was a linked bracelet, silver, every other link carved with an intricate design while the rest were just plain silver. "It's an anniversary gift for Tony."

"Woooooow . . ." Michael breathed, taking the box from Gob for closer inspection, running his thumb over the elegant metal. "I love it! It's . . . it's simple, classic, sort of an understated-"

"So Tony's gonna hate it, right?"

"So much!" Exclaimed Michael. "Buddy, what were you  _thinking_ with this?!"

"It's part of a bait 'n switch," Gob explained, practically jittering with excitement like a kid on Christmas Eve. "I'm taking him out for dinner to his favorite restaurant, then I'll give him this before dessert, he'll pretend to love it because-"

"Because he loves  _you,_ right, I follow," said Michael. "But where does the 'switch' part come in?"

Gob took the box from Michael and placed it back in the satchel. "I'll tell you all about it tomorrow, Mikey, just needed to make sure the bracelet was boring enough." He slung an arm around his younger sibling's shoulders and squeezed tight. "And if you like it? It is definitely boring enough! Thank you!"

"Hm," Michael pursed his lips. "And that was  _so close_  to being a heartwarming brother moment."

NARRATOR: Honestly, I think it still hits the mark. I mean considering the family, anything that doesn't involve excessive swearing or physical violence should probably count as sentimental, right?

Later that evening as the couple ate their desserts, Gob was genuinely impressed by what a stellar job Tony was doing at pretending to like his new bracelet. From fiddling with it, to gazing at it, and even happily showing it off to their waiter.

If Gob didn't know the man so well as he did, he'd have totally bought Tony's enthusiasm as genuine. But he knew better.

NARRATOR: I'll save you the suspense: No, Gob wasn't mistaken. Tony fucking hated that thing.

"Thank you again, Gob," Tony gushed, fake-admiring his new jewelry. "So much. It's really . . .  _really_ something!"

Gob swelled with pride, though not at all for the reasons his lover assumed.

NARRATOR: Part one of the plan had gone off without a hitch. Now on to part two. Let's all watch that happen:

"So what's next?" Tony asked as they left the restaurant.

Every year they alternated who got to plan Just Hands Day, and this year was Gob's turn to take charge. He wrapped his arms around Tony as they waited for their Uber, cozying close. "Remember how I told you about that kid from the center?" He asked. "The one whose mom was devastated when his dad came out after nearly twenty years of what everyone thought was a great marriage?"

"Yeah," Tony nodded, "and how the kid did a few card tricks for his mom, and that was the first time in a month she stopped crying and seemed happy? Sure, it was a cute story. But what-"

"Well," Gob cut him off, "he showed me some card tricks too, and I thought he had real talent. So I've been sort of . . . mentoring him in magic, and tonight is his first real show in front of an audience."

"And we're going?" Tony asked with an excited little hop. "To your first protege's  _first show?_ Awwwww, that's so perfect!" He rose up on tip-toe to give his boyfriend a little kiss. "It's . . . like . . . so  _us."_

"It's just amateur night at the Blue Door Lounge." Gob said with a casual shrug. "And he's only seventeen so his parents had to sign a legal waiver thingie so he'd be allowed on premises. But yeah, I'm super excited for him!"

"Me too!" Tony exclaimed. "This is the best Just Hands Day gift ever!"

NARRATOR: As far as Tony was concerned, his boyfriend had already more than made up for the bracelet fumble. So much so that he even promised himself he would wear the thing at least once or twice a year. You know, whenever the dress code called for 'blah.'

Each performer at the Blue Door was either damn good, or showed real promise, which was rare for an amateur show. Usually there was at least one dud in the mix. Gob's protege was the closing act. He'd made sure of it.

"Hello, hello," said the astoundingly confident kid as he walked out on stage, waving to the crowd with both hands like a seasoned pro. "Good to see such a packed house, I hope we're all having fun. Uh . . . so, everyone, this is actually my first show in front of people. At least people who aren't my parents, or friends I could bribe with pizza."

A soft chuckle rippled through the crowd.

"Good warm-up," Tony whispered in Gob's ear. "You were right, he's a natural on stage."

"So, My name is Kevin Connelly, sorry I haven't come up with a snazzy stage name yet, not gonna lie, I might just stick with Kevin. And uh, normally I start out with card tricks, but tonight I'm going to begin with a little mind-reading. Yeah," he nodded in response to gentle applause. "Yeah, some mind-reading tricks. We all down for that?"

The crowd responded with more enthused applause, slowly warming to the young performer.

"Great! Now Ladies and Gentlemen, we actually have one of my favorite illusionists, a hero of mine, in the crowd tonight. So we're gonna start with him. A- _hem."_ The boy cleared this throat. "Will Mister Tony Wonder please stand up?"

NARRATOR: Literally only three people on earth had ever referred to Tony as their favorite illusionist. One, of course, being Gob. The other two were his parents.

"What have you done?" Tony rasped in Gob's general direction as he stood from his seat.

Gob completely ignored the question. He and Kevin had been working on this script for several weeks, and damn if he was gonna let it veer off track now.

Kevin continued on with the show as practiced. "Oh, there you are! Hi Tony, it is  _amazing_ to meet you! And . . I sense that you're here with your boyfriend tonight?"

"That is correct." Tony nodded, playing along with the so-called 'psychic'.

"Okay, great. And I'm also sensing that today is a special day for you both, let's see if I can figure out why," Kevin closed his eyes and put a hand to his temple. "Uuuuuuuuhhhhhh . . . hm. That's weird. All I'm seeing is . . . just . . . hands. Does that make sense to you, Tony? Why I'd be seeing just hands? Do you know what that's about?"

Tony smirked happily and cast a sidelong glance to Gob, who sat in a flimsy old wooden chair, beaming up at him.

"Yes, I do know what it's about."

"Okay, awesome." Kevin nodded. "So I'm on the right track. Now let's go a little deeper. You are wearing ooooooonnnnnnn your . . ." he pretended be in deep focus . . . "let's see . . . yes, on your right wrist is a new bracelet that you do not like. At. All."

"What?!" Tony cried out, suddenly horrified. "No! No, I, i-it's-"

"Don't lie to a psychic, Tony Wonder," Kevin cautioned. "You absolutely  _hate_ that thing."

"Yeah Tony," Gob said, wearing a fake scowl that took all of his effort to maintain. "Don't lie to the psychic!"

NARRATOR: Tony had no clue what the hell was going on at that point. But, ever the performer, he decided in a heartbeat it was best to carry on. That poor young Kevin didn't deserve to have his first public show marred by a Lover's Quarrel.

"Fine," Tony shrugged, slumped and defeated. "I don't like the bracelet." He couldn't even bear to make eye contact with Gob as he spoke the words.

"Okay," Kevin nodded. "I can tell you didn't like admitting that, but you know what, Tony? You know what? It's aaaaaalllllll gonna be fine, because I'm sensing-" once again he closed his eyes and pressed a hand to his temple. "I'm sensing, yes . . . I'm sensing . . . yes,  _yes! . ._ I'm sensing that the person who gave you that bracelet wants to marry you!"

" _WHAT!?"_  Tony yelped in sudden,  _profound_ shock, backed up by a soundtrack of raucous applause and whistles from the crowd. This time when he turned to look at Gob, the other man's _'scowl'_  had vanished, replaced instead with a look of pure shining delight.

"In fact," Kevin continued while motioning for the audience to quiet down a bit. "In fact Tony, if you'll just go ahead and reach into your right coat pocket, please . . ."

Still stunned and a bit lightheaded Tony did as he was told, and withdrew from his pocket a wide titanium band with three rows of small gems running the full circumference in an alternating pattern of diamonds and sapphires. He knew Gob must have slipped it into his pocket while Kevin had him distracted, but still . . .

"A bait 'n switch?" He warbled happily as Gob stood up. "You  _seriously_ proposed with a bait 'n switch?"

"Mmhm," Gob replied, unable to articulate anything more sophisticated as he slid the perfectly Tony-esque ring onto Tony's finger with shaky hands. He'd known this ring was _the one_  the moment he saw it at the jewelers. No question. Sensible enough to be worn every day, yet showy enough for . . . well, for a showman.

For  _his_ showman.

"I don't think we heard an answer there, Tony!" Kevin yelled from the stage, leaning out, a hand cupped around his ear.

"YES!" Tony shouted back, showing off his ring finger to the crowd. "OBVIOUSLY YES!"

Another warm wave of 'aaaaawwwww's and applause broke out.

NARRATOR: I'm not crying, you're crying!

"GREAT!" Kevin proclaimed over the noise of the crowd.. "AND THERE'S NO WAY I'M GONNA TOP A SHOW LIKE THAT, FOLKS, SO IF YOU WANNA SEE MY  _REAL_ SET? PLEASE DO COME BACK TOMORROW! THANK YOU AND GOOD NIGHT!"

With that Kevin Connelly, aspiring magician, took a grand bow and exited the stage.

Rather than leave the club right away as Gob had originally planned, the newly engaged couple ended up staying for several more giddy hours. Other patrons kept buying them round after round of congratulatory drinks, and no one turns down free booze on a night of big celebration, right?

It was a loud and festive evening, and both men were three sheets to the wind by the time they stumbled through the door of their apartment and flopped down on the couch.

"We . . . we sh'ld drnk water b'fore bed," Gob slurred, pointing to the kitchen. "Th'water lives . . . ov'r there . . ."

"Y're so  _drunk!"_ Tony giggled.

NARRATOR: Tony could hold his liquor a bit better than Gob, but not by much. These boys were suuuuuuper trashed.

"C'n I take this . . . th'thing off now?" Asked Tony, jiggling his still-braceleted wrist.

"God y'ssssssss!"

It took both men's effort to unclasp the damn thing.

NARRATOR: So,  _so_  drunk.

As the (marginally) sober-er of the two, Tony won the task of fetching them water. He first brought over two glasses, then filled up their biggest pitcher and brought it over as well. Gob slid a magazine under it just in time to avoid leaving a water ring on the coffee table.

"Fussy pants!" Tony teased as he filled both glasses, then settled on the couch, slumping his head on Gob's shoulder.

Eventually the water did its job and both men decided it was safe to go to bed, expecting only mild hangovers the next morning.

"We should re-gift that boringass bracelet," said Tony as he settled his head on a pillow. "I feel like Michael would love it."

"That was part of my plan all along," said Gob, yawning the brag-y words.

"You're so clever." Tony yawned as well, heavy eyelids fluttering shut. "So tomorrow's all about telling everyone . . . we're engaged. . . and . . ." he yawned again. "And stuff?"

Gob took Tony's hand and gave it an affectionate squeeze, replying with a barely audible: "Mmhm. G'night."

"G'night."

Both men were snoring within minutes.

NARRATOR: And that's the story of how Gob and Tony got engaged. Illusion and a few tiny lies. You know, exactly like their first Just Hands Day.

THE END.


End file.
